


Railroad Track

by rainbowdracula



Series: Freedom Hangs Like Heaven [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Manipulation, Mpreg, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is an omega rendered undesirable by his vivid nightmares, sleepwalking, and hysteria. He's certain he's going to die a miserable spinster.</p><p>Then he meets the handsome, successful Doctor Hannibal Lecter, who is instantly smitten and sweeps Will away. At first ecstatic, Will's visions slowly grow darker and focus on the serial killer known as the Chesapeake Ripper, as cracks begin to appear in his "perfect" mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for this chapter - Hannibal and Will have a large age gap, and when they first meet Hannibal is a position of power over Will. It gets worse from there. There's also some less-than-nice words said about mental illness and Will, which do not reflect my own views.
> 
> I've lost control over my life.

The water spread like a sapphire under the hot summer sun, interspersed with the gleam of pristine white yachts making circles with their wakes. The beautiful Paradis Sur La Mer resort, famous for its view of the Gulf and private marina, stretched out like a lazy Persian cat in front of the water. For the sparkling boats that putted about, Paradis Sur La Mer had mechanics on call to care for them.

Will Graham sedately trailed after his father Robert as they walked down the marina's dock. The meticulously kept wood didn't even creak. The malfunctioning boat was at the end of the dock, smaller and less lavish than the rest, but still finer than anything Will or Robert would ever own. Will admired its construction.

The slender slope of Will's shoulders were tanned and freckled after a summer spent following his father on the water. The other omega who graduated from Ange High School with him had been snatched by some alpha in Baton Rouge, but it seemed everyone in Louisiana knew Will's brain was a rabid dog.

Serenely, Will looked out on the water and saw strange shapes in the boat wakes. In a different time, Will would've been cloistered away to give prophecies to kings. Now, his dreams would send him wandering for the police to find in the middle of the night, gravel making his feet bleed.

"Dammit," Robert cursed when the engine gave a high pitched stutter. "Forgot the monkey wrench. Will?"

"On it," Will said, turning away from the water to go to the maintenance shed. His floppy curls and pinked cheeks caught eyes, but it was obvious he did not belong amongst the high society omegas in their wide brimmed sunhats. Will was fine with it – he did not belong anywhere.

The trip to the maintenance shed curved along the beach, but Will didn't stop to appreciate it. Robert was quite patient when it came to his son's _illness,_ but he had none for dawdling

Wrench in hand from the little shack tucked out of sight, Will began the walk back. Under his uniform, he was sweltering and couldn't wait for lunch in the air conditioned break room.

"Excuse me?"

The voice was European. Will sighed eternally, and turned to face the guest with his polite smile, unnatural on his face.

"How can I help you, sir?" Will asked, carefully practiced. The guest was tall and broad-shouldered, clothes expertly tailored. Alpha, Will noted with distaste.

"Where would I go to rent a boat?" he asked. Will didn't like those dark eyes, and how they seemed to rake over him. Will kept his gaze trained on the man's collar.

"The boat house, sir," Will answered, shifting uncomfortably.

 _Be polite,_ was the first thing Robert had told him at the start of June. Sticky August, and no one had even glanced at him before now.

"Could you show me the way?" the alpha asked. Will swallowed.

"Of course," he said. "Right this way."

The man's gait was deliberate, his gaze piercing. The walk to the boat house was short, but it felt like a small eternity to Will. It felt like his very soul was being plucked out and examined.

"What's your name?" the man asked. _Be polite._

"Will," he replied.

"And what do you do at the hotel?"

"Odd jobs. I mostly help my dad with the boats."

He hummed. "Good to see you're not wasting your summer."

Will smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

"We're here," he said at the front of the boat house. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

The man gave him an appraising look that made Will shiver despite the heat, like he was going to crawl right out of his uncomfortable skin.

"No," he said. "Thank you very much, Will."

Before he could change his mind, Will scampered off to the marina and the boat.

"Finally," Robert said. "What took you so long?"

"There was a guest..." Will began, but Robert's snort cut him off.

"Say no more, son," he muttered, getting down to work.

With the wrench, it was a short job, and they were sitting in the cool break room in no time. Just as they were digging into their lunches, Miss Louise – the pleasant older beta who managed the staff with a wide smile and a habit of babying Will – came in with a wider smile than normal.

"You charmed Doctor Lecter," she told Will. He blinked in confusion. "He's currently staying in the most expensive room in the resort, for the conference."

"Oh," Will said. "I just showed him the boat house."

"Called you a _fine young gentleman,_ " Miss Louise laughed. Will flushed, and it did not go down for the rest of the day.

In the darkness of the night, still oppressively hot and restless, Will did not sleepwalk. Instead, he dreamed of drifting on the water, flat and black. There was something under him in the murky depths, he knew, but it only circled below where he could not see, and Will awoke before it rose up to strike him. It was before dawn came, and he hid under his thin cotton sheet until it was time for work.

 

-

 

The resort was holding some sort of conference for "Mental Health Professionals," and on a blessedly cool Saturday evening, Will was conscripted into busboy duty.

He was dressed up in some monkey suit that clearly broadcasted his duty, and spent the evening doing his best to be unobtrusive while picking up abandoned glasses of champagne and leftover plates of finger foods. Will wondered if all the shrinks in the room could tell that he had – in the immortal words of Billy Jackson at the homecoming dance – a mind like a bag of wet cats, spitting and clawing him with wild fantasies and dark visions. They couldn't even dream of getting a therapist for Will.

 _Maybe if I offer myself up for a test subject, they'll pick my brain for free,_ Will thought. He slipped back and forth from the grand ballroom and the noisy, cramped kitchen, thoughts of electroshocks and lobotomies bouncing around his skull.

"We meet again, Will."

Will startled in the empty hallway, turning to face the grinning form of Hannibal Lecter. He was dressed to the nines in a black three piece suit, with a paisley tie and neatly combed hair. Will had no doubt it was made specifically with him in mind.

"Good evening, Doctor Lecter," Will said carefully. "Thank you for complimenting me to Miss Louise."

"I believe exemplary service is as important to note as terrible service," Doctor Lecter said. "And I have been quite pleased with the service of Paradis Sur La Mer."

He pronounced the name of the resort with a proper French flair, not at all like Will's Cajun drawl.

"I hope you come back!" Will said. He liked the resort well enough, or at least liked the people who worked there. "We're happy to have you here, Doctor."

Doctor Lecter smiled.

"Perhaps," he said. "Are you working for the summer?"

"I'm taking a gap year, sir," Will said. "Then I'll maybe go to the local community college. I don't quite know what I want to do with my life."

Doctor Lecter's smile was strange, and the hand he placed on his shoulder was heavy. "It's good to figure out what you want to do. But don't get cast adrift."

Will smiled, awkward and uneasy. Doctor Lecter leaned in for a minute, before he stepped back.

"Have a good night, Will," he said.

"You too, sir," Will said, and watched him leave.

The next morning, Will had work off and spent it tidying up around the trailer. He was mopping the floors, the heat bearing down on Ange, when there was a knock on the door. It scared Will enough for him to drop the mop – people didn't visit the Grahams, sitting on the edge of town.

He opened the battered door cautiously, only to see a deliveryman with an armful of beautiful flowers.

"Will Graham?" he asked. Will nodded hesitantly. "These are for you, from a Hannibal Lecter."

"Thank you," Will murmured, taking them and quickly shutting the door. They were small flowers, perfectly symmetrical with a vivid purple-red hue. _Sweet William,_ he thought with a laugh, his mother's long buried voice filling the trailer once again. He could conjure her spirit with perfect clarity, brown curls and warm eyes, and unlike his other ghosts, she disappeared when he wanted her to.

He brought the flowers into his room, placing them on the dresser in front of the window. Amongst the perfect blooms was a card on paper that must've cost more than their rent for the month, and on it in perfect handwriting was this –

_Dearest Will,_

_I deeply apologize for my forwardness, but I cannot get the thought of you out of my head. Even in our brief, inane conversations your vivacious intelligence shone through, enough to have me craving for more of your company._

_I understand perfectly if you have another vying for your company already. I can only imagine how many suitors such a graceful being such as you attract, but please do me the honor of at least dinner._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Hannibal Lecter_

"Bless your heart," Will said out loud to the empty room. He'll have dinner with Doctor Lecter, to break it to him gently that his attentions were best turned elsewhere. No way would he want to deal with Will, when he himself was so successful and brilliant. Doctor Lecter would have no trouble getting himself a proper omega that didn't scream themselves awake every other night.

Reverently, he placed the card in the bottom drawer where he kept his mother's diary. Even if he was going to die a spinster, it would be nice to have a reminder that someone once thought him beautiful and charming.

There was a knock on the door, shocking Will out of his reverie. He answered it with even more trepidation, eyes almost bugging out of his skull when Doctor Lecter was the one standing on the ramshackle porch. Will flushed, considering he was dressed in his ragged cleaning clothes – not that his regular clothes were much better.

"This is terribly improper," Doctor Lecter confessed. "But I could not wait another moment."

"Oh," Will said. "Um, please come in..."

Doctor Lecter filled up the cramped trailer in a way Robert and Will couldn't, even when they were in together. Will refused to let himself be embarrassed by the house, squaring his shoulders and ready to bite if Doctor Lecter said something against it.

The house seemed to be the thing least on his mind, for the doctor immediately gripped Will's hands in his. They were very strong and very warm, and Will felt like the swooning hero of some romance novel when the doctor looked at him so earnestly.

"Have you considered my proposal?" he asked. Will thought about what he was offering – a chance out of Ange, with an adoring alpha. No more feeling like a freak and an outsider amongst the gossip and rumors, no more struggling from paycheck to paycheck. No more loneliness, or wistful dreams of things not meant for him.

But Will steeled himself, and did not get cast adrift by idle fantasies.

"I'm very flattered, Doctor," he said, carefully picking his words. "But I'm...I'm _sick._ It's probably for the best we don't...you don't continue your suit."

He didn't dare meet the doctor's eyes, and it felt like something was stuck in his throat. Doctor Lecter's hands tightened.

"Sick?" he asked. Soft, intrigued. "Have you been diagnosed? What are your symptoms?"

"Not _physically_ sick," Will corrected. "I have...I have nightmares and I sleepwalk. Sometimes I wake up and I think I'm on fire. You're better off with someone else, believe me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see a pitying look on Doctor Lecter's face.

Instead, there was a hand on his chin that gently turned him to look at the doctor. His eyes fluttered open, and Doctor Lecter's face was determined, instead of pitying.

"An illness of the mind can be treated just as readily as an illness of the body," he declared. "And neither will stop me from properly courting you. So let me ask again – will you go to dinner with me, Will?"

Will's eyes grew watery, vision swimming.

"Oh," he breathed. " _Yes._ "

 

-

 

Doctor Lecter was the perfect alpha gentleman.

Besides his "terrible impropriety" of visiting Will at the house when Robert wasn't there to chaperone, his courting was textbook and made that Baton Rouge alpha look pathetic. There were fancy gifts that Will barely had room for, new clothes in order for Will to go to fancy restaurants and events with him, and lurid love notes were tucked into beautiful bouquets of flowers.

Robert, beta through and through, took the courtship with a sigh. Doctor Lecter managed to charm him, and Robert allowed him to whisk Will away from Ange with a battered suitcase full of books.

Hannibal's rented Mercedes sat in front of the tiny Graham trailer, and ragged curtains twitched so curious eyes could watch that crazy Will be taken away by some rich man. They were going to spend some time in New Orleans, before going to Baltimore.

Will was excited. He had never been on a plan before, nor had he really left the Texas-Louisiana-Mississippi area of the Gulf Coast.

Robert hugged him goodbye, extracting promises to write and call, and Hannibal opened the door to the rented Mercedes for Will to settle in for the drive to New Orleans. It was the nicest car Will had ever been in, or even seen, and he rubbed his hand along the smooth leather.

He turned to watch Ange become even smaller as it became so far away, until it vanished over the horizon. On the radio was an opera, something that lulled Will to a state of half-asleep, half-awake as his head rested against the car window. On the side of the road, between the asphalt and the Gulf, Will saw a flash of black before Hannibal sped by.

He craned his head to see what it was, catching Hannibal's attention.

"What did you see?" he asked. Will shook his head.

"Nothing," he said. "Maybe a dog? It went by too fast."

Hannibal smiled indulgently, and gripped Will's hand where it was splayed on the armrest. Will squeezed it back, moving to look forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon period.

There was snow.

It piled up thick, like a heavy wool blanket, and his bare feet didn't even make a dent in it. He was draped in black fabric, billowing around him and covering his hair. The sky above was flat black, without stars or moon.

He stood in the middle of the featureless landscape, completely alone and shivering from a cold that sunk its teeth deep into the bone. The silken fabrics provided no warmth, no matter how tightly he held them to himself.

There was a crunch behind him, and he turned to witness a great black stag with the feathers of a raven stepping towards him. It sunk into the snow, but it did not stumble. The raven feathered stag stop a few feet from him, and it lowered its head.

He stumbled towards it, arms catching around its neck and he hugged it close. The stag rested its head on his shoulder, warm breath ruffling his hair, and heat seeped into his bones. He sagged in relief, the chill leaving him.

He closed his eyes, and hands were snaking up his back to return his embrace, and Will woke up.

The room was dark, but the curtains were pulled back enough so that he could catch a glimpse of the New Orleans skyline. Under the sturdy canopy and heavy covers, he was naked and aching. Memories of earlier flooded his mind, pushing away the dream, and Will turned rosy but giggled all the same. Hannibal had been so sweet and gentle, but Will's legs still felt like jello.

He frowned when he realized that Hannibal was not in bed – his side was still warm, and when Will strained his ears, there were no sounds of someone in the bathroom. Will stood, thighs trembling, and regarded the decadent hotel room.

He never imagined staying in the _Ritz-Carlton New Orleans,_ let alone in the most expensive suite, but here he was with his toes in the plush carpet. Will grabbed a terry cloth robe that had been draped over the bench at the foot of the bed, leftover from their bath earlier, and wrapped it around himself as he padded out the open French doors.

The room was fancier than most apartments, and Will couldn't help but run his fingers over the molding on the walls. The hardwood floor was cool beneath his feet. He walked passed the opulent furniture centered around a fireplace in the living room, and through the cracked open door on to the terrace.

Hannibal was leaning against the railing, dressed in loose sleep pants and a half buttoned linen shirt rolled up his forearms. He was looking out over the city and the river, where steamboats were chugging along contently, their lights making long reflections in the water. The look on his face was unreadable, but it smoothed out when he saw Will.

"Darling," Hannibal said, drawing Will into his arms. "Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind and didn't want to disturb you."

"It's okay," Will said, resting his cheek against Hannibal's chest.

"I never thought I'd have a mate," Hannibal murmured. "No one ever seemed interesting enough for me to spend a lifetime with them."

Will smiled, pleased, and confessed, "Everyone knew me as crazy. No one ever thought I could be a respectable mate."

Hannibal tilted Will's head up to look into his eyes.

"You are beautiful," Hannibal assured. "I care not for what others think of you for having an illness. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

From the French Quarter down below, the sounds of swinging and cheerful music rose up as people celebrated Saturday night. Hannibal's large hands slipped under Will's robe, pushing it down his shoulders and let it pool around his waist. The cool air made Will shiver, and Hannibal drew him back into the warmth of his arms.

Gently, they rocked together to the beat of the music, and water welled up in Will's eyes. His heart soared. He felt cradled and cared for, instead of fraying at the seams.

_I'm going to be perfect,_ Will thought fiercely. _He deserves it._

Hannibal pressed a gentle, chaste kiss on Will's lips as the moon rose up over New Orleans, and tears spilled down Will's cheeks.

 

-

 

Baltimore was cooler than New Orleans, and very humid.

In Baltimore, Hannibal drove a black Bentley that blocked out the sounds of the city. In Baltimore, he drove into a neighborhood made up of little castles guarded by hedgerows and stone fences. In Baltimore, he lived in a house so imperial it made Will feel microscopic.

He was certain the trailer could've fit into the foyer, dressed in reds and purples and dark, rich woods. The art on the walls were strange things, cultured but unnerving. Will clutched at his suitcase, the feeling of not belonging crawling up his throat.

Hannibal rested his hand on the small of Will's back.

"Your clothes have been shipped up and are in the closet," Hannibal assured. "I have a surprise for you."

He led Will up the stairs and into the grand library. Will gasped – there were bookshelves to the vaulted ceiling, and there must've been more of them than there were in the local library Will once spent his afternoons at. They were all pristine and perfect, neatly organized and sorted. There was even a ladder like Belle had in _Beauty and the Beast..._

Will chided himself for the childish thought, and followed after Hannibal, who presented him with an empty shelf. It was beautiful, made of some fine wood stained to perfection, but Will still blinked up at Hannibal in confusion.

"It's yours," Hannibal promised. "To fill up how you please."

Will's mouth opened, unable to think up a proper response to such a thoughtful gift.

"Thank you," he said. "I can't hope to repay all your generosity, Hannibal..."

Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will's forehead. "You repay it with your lovely companionship."

Hannibal made them dinner that night, something fancy that made Will's head spin. He knew how to cook alright – before she died his mother had taught him all the staples that would make "any alpha fall in love with him," but Will doubted Hannibal would appreciate fried chicken and heavy mash potatoes. Another thing Will had to learn.

He was sure Hannibal had a service to maintain the expansive house, but he'd appreciate not having to cook when he got home from his practice. And there were other ways to make sure the house was neat that the service didn't do.

Will helped set the table, terrified of smashing the almost translucent plates, and beamed at Hannibal when he placed the roasted pork and fried green beans in front of him, pouring a bright red sauce over them.

"It looks delicious," Will said. "You have teach me how to cook so fancy."

Hannibal smiled, pleased, as Will dug in. It was hard to stop himself from wolfing it down, but being slow allowed him to really appreciate it.

"I will teach you many things," Hannibal promised. "After you get settled, we should host a dinner party. My friends will love to meet you."

"O-oh," Will said. He'd never imagined he'd be in a position to ever host a dinner party.

"But it can wait," Hannibal said with a gracious smile. "You have a lot to adjust to."

"Yes," Will replied. "But it's worth it."

Hannibal's smile grew wider, and he set down his fork to offer his upturned hand across the table. Will placed his hand in Hannibal's, and Hannibal brought it up to his lips.

"We will grow so strong together, you and I," Hannibal assured. "You will make this house a home."

That night, Will dreamed of the stag again. He was kneeling on the snow, the stag's sleeping head in his lap, and a sense of peaceful happiness in his chest. When he awoke, it was to Hannibal getting ready for work in the dim warm light, his wearied bones rested and a smile permanently fixed to his face.

 

-

 

Will never knew such a fancy grocery store existed.

He clutched the shopping list, written in Hannibal's neat cursive, as he made his way slowly around the store. Everything was organic, or European, or made of some rare thing cultivated in some rare corner of the world. His new mate was quite exacting and particular about food – _what you allow into yourself becomes you_ – as Will quickly learned during their cooking lessons. He was pleased with Will's progress, as he was now able to make "simple" dishes to Hannibal's standard after just a couple weeks.

Despite his new clothes and haircut, Will still felt like an outsider among Hannibal's spaces. The stay-at-home spouses around the neighborhood had been slowly introducing themselves to him, amazed that Hannibal had taken a mate. They seemed equally amazed that he was a meek little thing from Louisiana, instead of some high pedigreed omega from a well-established family. Friendly enough, but Will could see their judgmental stares.

Will endeavored to be more like Hannibal – cultured and refined – by reading in the library every day and listening to opera over the sound system in the study. He made sure to read up on them as well, because Hannibal wanted to take him to the opera soon and he didn't want to flounder among aficionados.

He didn't dare look at the price the groceries came out to, handing the cashier the black card Hannibal had given him. Will declined help out to the shiny silver Mercedes – Hannibal's other car, originally a backup for the Bentley – and he put away the groceries in the trunk.

The supermarket Hannibal preferred for "staples" was in a complex with some other stores of similar caliber, including a little yarn store tucked into the corner. He bit his lip, considering how he hadn't brought any of the cheap acrylic he had picked up over the years – knitting was the one proper skill he was excellent at. It was just counting and movement, and he could do that with abandon. He _did_ bring some battered pattern books with notes in the margin, practically heirlooms.

Nothing would melt or become spoiled if he popped in for a minute; it was a cold day. An idea already formulating in his head, he entered the little store.

It was packed with yarns of all different textures and thickness, but Will gravitated to a particular deep red, like dried blood. The yarn was soft, made of wool from some exotic sheep, and Will ended up getting eleven hanks of it.

When he returned home, he put the groceries away and sat in the parlor room with his new yarn, carefully rolling it up into perfect little spheres before he casted it on to his metal needles, worn from use. He knitted until it was time for him to start preparing dinner.

Hannibal came house with a furrowed brow – something about a rude man at the bank – but Will's excellent preparation of puttanesca with sliced sausage medallions (made by Hannibal himself) and a glass of Fuore Rosso red wine put him in a much better mood. They retreated into the study, to work on their individual hobbies while still sharing space – Hannibal sketching, and Will knitting.

Hannibal glanced over at Will, concentrating on his stitches. "What are you making, dear?"

"A surprise," Will laughed, holding it closer to himself. Hannibal smiled.

"I will get you bamboo needles to make your surprise with," he promised. "Better for the hands."

"Thank you," Will murmured. They lapsed into silence for a moment, before Hannibal got up to sit beside Will.

"When I was in Lithuania," he said, and Will stopped what he was doing. Hannibal had never really talked about his pass. "I remember watching my mother and grandmother make such fantastic, colorful patterns. I thought they were magic. I did not understand how they could turn yarn into such things."

"Once you know what to do, you can make such wonderful things," Will said. Hannibal kissed his forehead, and Will felt warm. His worries over fitting in and sticking out dissipated when Hannibal held him so close – he didn't need anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staying at the Ritz-Carlton New Orleans during Mardi Gras is a dream of mine. [They're staying in the absolutely absurd Ritz-Carlton suite.](http://www.ritzcarlton.com/en/Properties/NewOrleans/Rooms/Suites/The-Ritz-Carlton-Suite.htm)
> 
> I'm a crocheter who knows exactly jack shit about knitting. Thus the loving description of yarn and the vague description of the actual act.
> 
> Things will pick up next chapter, when I find time to write it...
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a murderer on the loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't stop won't stop.

Hannibal read the news every morning at breakfast.

While he had an iPad he read the _Wall Street Journal_ and _Economist_ on, he got a physical copy of the _Baltimore Sun_ delivered to the doorstep every morning. He'd read the news with his cup of coffee, making light conversation about the top stories. Occasionally Will would read it after he was done, if a headline had caught his eye.

The headline splashed across the front page screamed at him to look.

It was a blustery day, autumn sinking into the city and driving the last of summer away. Hannibal settled down in the head chair at the table in his bathrobe and sleep pants, Will sitting down on his right. He opened the paper, and Will had a perfect view of its front page.

 

**CHESAPEAKE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN.**

_The notoriously brutal serial killer claims another victim after a two year pause. Authorities wait with baited breath for the other two victims of the Ripper's cycle..._

"Chesapeake Ripper?" Will asked, in a breathy voice that didn't sound like him. Something about the stark black ink crawled up his spine and into his throat.

Hannibal closed the paper to look at the headline.

"Ah," he said. "Sometimes I forget that Baltimore isn't the center of the universe, and you wouldn't know its ins and outs like I do."

He placed the paper down and poured himself some more coffee.

"The Chesapeake Ripper is a serial killer so named because his removal of his victims' organs resemble that of the infamous Jack the Ripper," Hannibal explained, like he was teaching a class. "He kills in cycles of three victims, then lays low for a while. Two years is the longest he's gone without a cycle, however."

"That's scary," Will said with a shiver, looking away from the headline. "Knowing some lunatic is running around Baltimore..."

"You don't fit the victimology," Hannibal promised, and opened his paper back up. "I like to think of it as incentive to be polite to others, because you never know which one is going to be an intelligent, sadistic psychopath."

"That's morbid, Hannibal," Will chided, and Hannibal simply chuckled. Their morning went on without interruption, Will seeing Hannibal off out the door with a kiss on the cheek.

Their domestic routine, already entrenched, was going to be shaken soon. Will shuddered, the knowledge of his heat coming closer and closer with each day. Then they'll be truly bonded, in flesh and blood, and maybe...

Will's hand briefly touched his belly. He shook his head, clearing out errant thoughts, and focused instead on cleaning up after breakfast.

The breakfast plates could be put in the dishwasher, along with the coffee mugs. He cleaned the pans used to fry up the egg and sausage scramble, humming to himself as the hot water flowed and released steam into the kitchen. Will placed them on the drying rack, and went to wipe down the table.

The paper was still there, lurid headline stark and staring. Will picked it up, and read through the article.

The victim had been an investment banker – middle aged, top of his field, a patron of the arts. He had a young omega, pregnant with their second child. Will bit his lip, thinking about how much this man was like his own mate. Hopefully, Hannibal's joking advice did keep him safe until this terrible Ripper was caught.

He ended up recycling the newspaper, not wanting it to bring the specter of the killer into the cheery house.

 

-

 

Hannibal came from work in a particularly good mood, seeming to hum to himself as Will took his jacket and briefcase.

"A most interesting happened to me today, beloved," he began, making his way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Will put away his things and followed him. "The head of the BAU came to my office."

"The FBI?" Will asked tentatively. Hannibal rolled up his sleeves and began to prepare the meat.

"Yes, an agent Jack Crawford," he replied. "An old colleague and former student, Doctor Alana Bloom, recommended my expertise in profiling the Ripper. Mister Crawford is quite dead set on catching him this time around."

"Oh," Will said, remembering the fear the newspaper article had brought out in him. Hannibal seemed to sense his fear.

"Are you still frightened by that newspaper article?" he probed gently. Will flushed, feeling like a child.

"It's just that the man killed was very much like you," Will confessed. "Wealthy, successful, liked the arts..."

Hannibal's smile was quite comforting. "Don't worry, I'm sure the Ripper wouldn't do anything as idiotic as targeting someone close to the investigation."

Still sensing Will's worries, he changed the subject.

"Alana is quite eager to meet you," Hannibal said. "I was thinking about inviting her and another old peer of mine, Doctor Frederick Clinton, over for a dinner. It'll be good to ease you in, before I hold the great unveiling of my darling."

New worries surged in Will's gut – being the young, backwater omega in a room of no doubt intelligent and successful doctors. If he said even one wrong thing, it'll reflect badly on Hannibal and his reputation, that he let his libido choose his mate.

"That sounds wonderful," Will said. "I'd love to meet your friends."

It was the right thing to say, because Hannibal beamed at him.

"Lovely," he said. "Friday, then. I have to work a bit late on Thursday – my last patient is going through a difficult time."

"I'll make sure the house is pristine," Will promised, like anything ever got out of order under Hannibal's watchful eye. And he'd also do some more practicing, to lessen the thick drawl of his accent, so unlike Hannibal's cultured turns-of-phrase.

Later, in bed, Hannibal laid flat on his back and Will curled into his side, head cushioned on his powerful shoulder. Hannibal splayed his hand on Will's hip, and pressed his nose into his curls.

"Your heat is close," Hannibal said, voice like silk in the darkness. Will nodded. "I'll hold your feast afterwards, when you are fully mine."

Will smiled, shy, and hid his face against Hannibal's shoulder. He had heard so many stories about heat, how even the most proper of omegas became so wanton and desperate, driving alphas into the madness of their rut.

"Don't worry," Hannibal cooed. "I will take care of you through it."

His hand slipped down, over Will's stomach, and they fell asleep like that.

 

-

 

Friday came far too quickly for Will's liking.

The floors gleamed, the antiques and art free of any hint of dust – even that embarrassing painting Hannibal insisted be in the dining room – and the table ready for guests. Hannibal was dressed in his three piece suit, a light beige with a bright red tie. Will dressed complimentary to him, a simple deep blue suit. No tie, as was customary with omegas to better show the curve of his pale throat.

It was hard not to fidget behind Hannibal when the doorbell rang, and Hannibal opened it to reveal two people. One was an alpha man, shorter and less powerfully built than Hannibal, in a more classical suit that the bold and strange pattern his mate preferred. The other was a woman, beta, with a sweet face and curled brown hair, her dress red.

Their gazes immediately focused in on Will, who folded in a bit but gave his best smile.

"This is the Doctors Bloom and Chilton," Hannibal told Will, and then turned to his friends. "Alana, Frederick, this is my mate, Will."

"Hello," Will said, words trembling a bit. "It's very nice to meet you."

Doctor Bloom smiled back, her entire face brightening like the dawn, but Doctor Chilton's gaze remained odd and deeply curious. Hannibal ushered them into the dining room, to eat the braised rabbit he had so carefully prepared.

There was a smattering of polite conversation that Will added a little to, more focused on not making a fool of himself.

"We were all quite surprised when the famous Doctor Lecter took a mate," Doctor Chilton informed him, causing Will to look up from his plate. "We thought he'd stay a bachelor forever."

"Will changed my mind," Hannibal said fondly, casting Will an affectionate look.

"Where are you from, Will?" Doctor Bloom asked. Will liked her already.

"Louisiana," he answered softly. "Down by the Gulf Coast."

"We met when I was at that psychiatrist conference, at the Paradis Sur La Mer," Hannibal added. "A week I thought wasted, that turned into the most important one of my life."

Will's pleased flush trailed down past his shirt.

"Do you have any hobbies?" Doctor Bloom continued. Will didn't like being the center of attention, but he also didn't want to disappoint Hannibal with banal answers.

"I have been reading a lot," Will said. "I've recently started the _Aeneid,_ which I am enjoying. I also like knitting quite a bit. Hannibal is teaching me how to cook."

Realizing how boring this made him sound, "After I get settled here, I'm thinking about going back to school, and major in something like Literature or Classical Studies. But that's a long way off."

"Both worthy pursuits," Doctor Chilton assured. Something about his intense gaze made Will antsy. "How old are you again?"

"Nineteen," Will answered. Doctor Chilton's smile crawled across his face.

"Plenty of time to devote to intellectual pursuits," he assured.

The conversation moved away from Will, to a lively debate about psychology. Will immediately felt hopelessly lost, but he could at least tell that his mate appeared to be winning. Warm pride bloomed in his chest.

"Sorry to push you out of the conversation," Hannibal apologized. Will shook his head.

"It's fine," he assured. "That's what happens when you have a bunch of specialists in a room."

"Well, we all have degrees in talking to people," Hannibal said slyly. "So when you get a bunch of therapists into a room, that's all we end up doing."

Laughter twinkled.

Doctor Chilton left shortly after dinner, citing an early morning. Doctor Bloom stayed later, and they retired with coffee to the study.

"I'm glad Hannibal found you," she said warmly. "It's good to know he's not wasting away alone in this big house."

"Oh," Will said. "I didn't...I'm very happy here, with him."

Hannibal rubbed Will's shoulder.

"He has brought light into my life indeed," Hannibal said. "Though I object to the idea I was wasting away in my house."

Alana smiled.

When she left, Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will's waist in the foyer.

"They must've thought of me as some stupid child," Will mumbled. "I had no idea what to say."

"Don't be absurd," Hannibal assured. "They thought of you as a charming young man, if a bit shy."

He stroked Will's cheek.

"Shyness can be overcome," he declared, and led Will to bed.

After they curled under the covers, Will slammed back to himself in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the pantry.

Moonlight streamed through the windows that overlooked the garden. The kitchen was pristine, meticulously cleaned after dinner. Will was naked and shivering with the cold.

"Will?"

Will turned. In the doorway, Hannibal stood in shadow. The strength of him was in sharp relief in the blackness – the breadth of his shoulders, the surety of his hands.

"I..." Will murmured, trembling increasing.

In a long stride, Hannibal stepped into the moonlight and the shadows slinked away. He tugged off his robe, draping it around Will's shoulders.

"I thought I was done sleepwalking," Will confessed, shoulders shaking. Hannibal pulled him close.

"Your approaching heat is aggravating your system," he said. "Once you have mated, you should settle back down again."

Will buried his face into his chest. His stomach churned, his body ached. He clutched at Hannibal tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been sleeping lately, thus the speedy updates. :D
> 
> Next chapter's a big one.
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A binding, in flesh and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heat chapter, people. Main warning for some rather interesting dirty talk, along with the usual problems surrounding heat.

Hannibal forgot his lunch.

Will parked his car in front of the FBI Academy, peering up at it dubiously. Hannibal's bag was in the passenger seat, and he held it like a shield when he approached the BAU wing of the building. There was a woman at the reception desk who smiled at him.

"I'm looking for Doctor Hannibal Lecter?" he asked. "He's consulting with Agent Jack Crawford..."

"Ah, yes! The ever polite Doctor Lecter," she laughed. "There in the middle of something, so you can just sit outside his office until they're done."

"Thank you," Will murmured, and scuttled off to sit outside the office that had JACK CRAWFORD emblazoned by the door. The leather chair wasn't comfortable at all, and Will stared resolutely down at Hannibal's bag. He wished he had brought his knitting – despite his initial speedy progress, it seemed the surprise wasn't growing any bigger. He blamed his unrefined cabling skills – he had to really pay attention to the movement of each stitch.

"You a student?"

Will startled, head jerking up to see a woman flanked by two men, one older and one younger. They were all wearing pheromone blockers, as people in environments like the FBI had a tendency to do. Professionalism, though Hannibal never masked his sometimes overwhelming pheromones.

"Oh, no," Will answered. "I'm just waiting for Hann...Doctor Lecter."

They looked at each other.

"You're Doctor Lecter's mate?" the younger said incredulously. "I expected someone way different."

Will's fingers tightened on Hannibal's bag.

"We were taking bets," the woman said, not unkindly. "I'm Beverly Katz. That's Zeller –" the younger man, still squinting at Will "—And Jimmy Price—" the older man, who cheerily waved.

"It's nice to meet you all," Will said politely. "I'm Will Lecter."

"He would end up with some Southern Belle," Katz murmured.

"You have to tell us," pleaded Zeller, "What is Lecter like at home?"

Will blinked in shock. "What?"

"Look, this suave European comes sauntering in with his three piece suits and fancy shoes, making the rest of us look like chumps," Zeller said. "He's constantly talking about Dante and Shakespeare and God knows who else. Owns ceramic Tupperware. I don't think he sweats. What is _all of that_ like at home?"

"Zeller," Katz hissed, but Price said, "I'm pretty curious about this too."

"Well," Will began, trying to process Zeller's rambling. "He likes to cook, and the harpsichord, and opera. He has a lot of friends."

They just stared at him, and Will tacked on awkwardly, "He's really nice."

Zeller seemed disappointed.

"Of course he's not going to give you the juicy details," Katz scoffed.

Fortunately, the door picked that moment, and two alphas left the room – Hannibal, and someone who must have been Jack Crawford.

"I hope my forensics team didn't grill you too much, Mister Lecter," Crawford said to him, a hint of scolding in his voice. The forensics team looked suitably chastised.

"Not at all, sir," Will said. He stood, and presented Hannibal with his bag.

"Thank you, darling," Hannibal said, taking the bag. He pressed a kiss to Will's curls – the forensics team seemed fascinated.

"I didn't want you to starve," Will said.

"I'll walk you out to the car," Hannibal said, and at that moment a manila file slipped out of his grip, falling to the floor and spilling its contents wide open.

It must've been a file from the Ripper case, Will thought, the photographs seared on to his brain – there was a man, impaled with such mundane things in a clinical, orderly pattern. His ribcage was splayed open, organs removed. The horror of what he was seeing, a dead man, detached from his brain, and instead was replaced with circling thoughts.

"Apologizes," Hannibal said, gathering up the file. He led Will out of the Academy with a hand on his lower back, as if anyone would question their relationship. Hannibal was odd about that.

Just in front of the car, Will gripped Hannibal's sleeve to stop him from leaving.

"The victims," Will murmured, "I think...I think he thinks of them as pigs. Porkers."

Hannibal tilted his head.

"They eat and eat, take and take, until they get fat and happy," Will continued. "They're meant to be slaughtered, to give back what they have taken."

Hannibal seemed intrigued and strangely pleased.

"You are an immensely empathic person," Hannibal said. "And I think it has gifted you a great insight."

He kissed Will's cheek in goodbye.

Will drove home in a daze. He wandered inside, knowing that he had things to do but he couldn't remember what they were.

His clothes seemed unbearably heavy and oppressive, so he went into the bedroom to strip them off. Then, naked, he was too cold.

Will dug through the hamper of dirty laundry, left to be sorted into what could be washed and what had to be dry-cleaned, and his fingers grazed a particularly soft sweater of Hannibal's. He brought it to his nose, breathing in the rich smell, and then put it on. While he wasn't that much shorter than Hannibal, he was much more slender, and the sweater slipped down his shoulder.

Warm, Will stood. His legs shook, thoughts shakier. He stared at the bed, the covers thin, and without thought he began to pull out the heavy down comforters kept at the bottom, pilling them on top of the bed to form a nest. He fiddled with it until it was perfect.

He turned to look at the doorway, eyes widening when he saw the raven-feathered stag in.

It was walking away from him, and Will found himself following it through the house. It was always a shadow ahead, and Will could not reach out and touch it. His body rolled through hot and cold, shivers and shakes.

Finally he stood at the foot of the stairs, the door swinging open.

An alpha, _his_ alpha, stood in the doorway, tall and strong and _virile._ Hannibal froze when he saw Will, stance shifting into something focused, predatory.

Giggling, Will turned on his heel and ran up the stairs. He didn't even need to glance back to know Hannibal was following right on his heels – his footsteps were heavy, intense.

In no time, Will was swept up into Hannibal's strong arms. His mate's chest was rumbling with deep, purring growls. Wetness was dripping down his bare thighs already.

"Perfect," Hannibal snarled. He placed Will down on the bed, cocooned by his nest, and divested himself of clothing, far rougher than he would normally. Bare, he almost smothered Will under his weight, mouth nipping at his jaw and throat.

"You are _mine,_ " he hissed into Will's skin. "I will mark you so deep and so sure that anyone who looks upon you will see _me._ "

He ripped the sweater off of Will, freeing miles and miles of pale white skin. Will arched his back and spread his legs, rapidly descending into primeval frenzy.

"I will rip apart anyone who touches you, mortal or divine," Hannibal said, pushing Will's thighs up to his chest. "I looked upon you and I knew then you were meant for _me_ , to give me pleasure unmatched and bare my heirs."

Hannibal's words were becoming slurred, his grasp of language fleeing as Will's heat induced him to rut. In one great push, he slid into Will, who accepted him easily with a high keening. There was a fire in his gullet, and his nails dug into the meat of Hannibal's shoulders.

"I would crack them open, eat them alive," Hannibal muttered, like he couldn't stop himself. Will barely understood anything anymore, only the pleasure building in his spine. "I would burn down the whole world, if it brought you joy. Our children will be kings and queens, emperors..."

Will's eyes opened, vision hazy. Above him, Hannibal was completely unbound, eyes wild and hair in disarray. There were black antlers curling above his head, shadows slipping down his skin...

Will threw his head back, revealing the line of his throat, and Hannibal bit down in the crook, hard enough to draw blood. Will's legs tightened, pleasure reaching an unbearable peak and he careened down as Hannibal made a mark even starker than a wedding ring.

Will's orgasm made Hannibal draw him tight, follow him over the edge. His mouth withdrew from the mating mark, open to catch breath, and Will caught it in a kiss.

They shared breath and space for a while, before Hannibal shifted Will so he was vertical so they could spoon up together in the little nest. Momentarily satisfied, Will felt aching and sleepy. Hannibal pressed kisses on his face and shoulders, sucking on the mating mark to make it an even darker shade of purple, and murmured nonsense until Will finally drifted off to sleep.

Will's heat lasted three days, the intensity of Hannibal's rut not dissipating in the slightest. On the fourth day, Will sat at the table in the same red sweater as Hannibal presented him with a braised heart.

"A tradition," he said. "To give you strength."

What for Will did not need to be told.

"Do you think...?" Will asked, not even able to finish the question because of the choking in his throat.

"It's...rarer, in the mating heat," Hannibal said. "If not, we'll simply have to try again."

Will looked down, and focused instead on eating the heart. Like all things Hannibal made, it was delicious.

"You're too good for me," Will said with a beaming smile. Hannibal returned it.

"I consider it only fair, considering the joy you have already brought into my life," he said. "And the further happiness you will gift to me."

Will laughed, delighted. "Sweet talker."

"Eat your heart," Hannibal jokingly ordered.

 

-

 

The Chesapeake Ripper struck once more.

Will was bringing Hannibal some tea in his study when he caught sight of the photographs of the crime scene, sprawled across the polished desk – a man whose chest had been hollowed out, and stuffed full of red roses and apple blossoms to the point of overflowing. Hannibal regarded Will with interest.

"Do you see something, beloved?" he asked. Will shook his head.

"This one seems different than his last," Will murmured. Like before, his mind seemed to detach from the horror of the situation, the world becoming dreamlike around him. "The last one was the slaughter of a pig. This one is to show how...happy he is? Something good has happened in his life."

Will bit his lip. "The roses mean love. The apple blossoms mean fertility."

Hannibal pushed away from the desk and patted his lap. Will placed the tea down and sat on his lap, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's shoulders. Hannibal stroked his cheek, ran his fingers through his hair.

"Do you think he has found someone, like I have found you?" Hannibal asked.

"Can a psychopath care about someone? Like you care about me?" Will countered.

"Perhaps something close to it," Hannibal said. "What do you think the Ripper's lover is like?"

Will casted a glance back at the photos. "Must be someone special, to catch his attention."

"Indeed," Hannibal murmured, stroking his thumb over Will's cheekbone. "I cannot imagine someone more spectacular than you."

Will touched Hannibal's collar, slid down to rest his hand on Hannibal's broad chest.

"I never thought I'd meet someone like you," Will confessed.

Hannibal pulled Will into a tight embrace. Will rested his head on Hannibal's shoulder, and looked out the window.

The way the bare branches twisted reminded him of antlers. He shivered, and buried his face into Hannibal's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A porker is a very fat pig raised entirely for food, generally a castrated male.
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for non-graphic violence, home invasion, non-graphic sexy times. Usual.

The Chesapeake Ripper took his third porker when the snow had covered Baltimore like a white blanket. Will didn't see those photos, but the reporters on the evening news had described the scene as "ghastly."

Bonding seemed to relax Hannibal – how much he was peacocking and showing off before to Will now seemed laughably obvious. It was quite nice to share quiet moments in front of the fireplace, even if Will appreciated the lavish meals and gifts.

Bonding also meant a return to Hannibal's extensive social schedule.

The tux for the opera was bespoke, accenting Will's trim waist and making him a perfect complement to Hannibal. He opened the passenger side door for Will when they got to the opera house, people in fine clothes filing in.

Hannibal put his hand on Will's lower back and led him up the steps. A rosy flush built on Will's cheeks as all eyes snapped to him. Hannibal snagged a flute of bubbly champagne for him, and Will took a sip to fortify himself.

"Ah, Hannibal, is this why you've been so reclusive?"

People, more than Will could possibly know, crowded around to coo over the newly bonded couple. Hannibal preened. Will smiled shyly, and his coyness only made him more charming.

Overwhelmed, he let himself drift a bit from the conversation – in the room at large, Hannibal stood at the center of attention, and so everyone was staring at his pretty new omega. There were spikes of lust, admiration, bitter envy of Hannibal's success and abilities – now that he was mated, he was the perfect alpha. And then jealousy, of Will, of some nobody omega from the Southern backwoods who managed to snag the most eligible bachelor in Baltimore.

He curled in closer to Hannibal's side, blocking out everyone. Fortunately, the socialization passed quickly, and Hannibal ushered them to their seats. In a prime spot, Will wryly noted.

The opera was beautifully done, Will could tell. While it was a concert opera and so it lacked the pomp and circumstance of the traditional, its stripped back nature created a greater sense of raw emotion. Will blinked back tears at the crescendo, and spared a glance at his mate, surprised to see his moistened eyes.

Will placed his hand on Hannibal's, and the man returned his gaze with warm, affectionate eyes. He squeezed their intertwined hands, and they stayed like that for the rest of the performance.

Afterwards was more socializing. Will privately wondered how much there was to talk about, and then heard some of the conversations – just rephrased versions of what was said before the show. He sipped his champagne, and let himself be led around by Hannibal.

"Society can be quite boring," Hannibal murmured in his ear, "If you don't know the backstory."

"Oh?" Will replied, looking up at Hannibal with bright eyes.

With a twinkling grin, Hannibal kept up a running commentary on who was sleeping with who, the rivalries and animosity hidden behind polite smiles and carefully blank spaces. Their intimate whispers were dismissed as the giddiness of the newly mated, unable to get enough of each other.

"Where did you find this one?" one of Hannibal's friend – Misses Komeda – asked. Will liked her, because she didn't defer to Hannibal like so many others.

"I'm from Louisiana," Will said. Misses Komeda laughed.

"The perfectly polite Southern Belle?" she teased Hannibal. "It only figures."

She placed her hands on her hips. "Will this bring you out of hiding and finally grace us with a feast?"

"I'm certainly not worth all the trouble," Will said awkwardly, but she waved him off.

"The boy who got the great Hannibal Lecter to settle down is worth the highest of praises," Misses Komeda said. Hannibal smiled enigmatically.

"One has most certainly presented itself," Hannibal said, the hand on Will's lower back drifting to his waist. Will looked away with a brilliant flush, and caught sight of something strange.

There was a beta – a bit on the portly side, but well dressed and groomed – staring morosely at them. At his side was an alpha, also staring, but there was something different in his eyes. Dark, calculating.

Will shivered, turning back to Hannibal, who looked at him oddly.

"Are you cold, beloved?" he asked. Will shook his head.

"I think I caught a bit of a draft," Will explained. Hannibal accepted it, tugging Will closer.

"I'll keep you warm," he said in a deep, throaty whisper that caused Will to shiver for entirely different reasons.

"Doctor Lecter!"

The beta and his friend finally made their way to them. The adoration on the beta's face was rather embarrassing, Will thought, and felt rather sorry for him. Hannibal's face was carefully blank.

"Hello, Franklyn," he said, words carefully chosen. Will could tell that he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"This is my friend Tobias," Franklyn said, and then smugly to Will, "I'm Doctor Lecter's patient."

"Hello, I'm Will," he returned. "I'm his mate."

Franklyn looked heartbroken. Hannibal seemed pleased. Tobias was intrigued.

"As my friend said, I am Tobias Budge," the alpha said. His eyes were locked on Will. "I run a music shop – the best catgut strings in Baltimore."

Will had no idea what that meant, but Hannibal seemed to.

"Ah, do you do maintenance on instruments?" Hannibal smoothly cut in. "My harpsichord has been sounding out of tune lately, but my previous technician has unfortunately retired."

"Yes," Tobias said, ripping his eyes away from Will. "Here's my business card."

"Excellent," Hannibal said, taking it. Franklyn appeared to have a coronary over how rapidly he lost control of the situation, while Will was certain an alpha dominance fight was going to go down based on Hannibal's body language, wound taunt.

Will placed his hand over Hannibal's chest and looked up at him pleadingly.

"We shouldn't stay out too late," Will said, voice low but not enough that Tobias and Franklyn couldn't hear them. "You're meeting with Mister Crawford tomorrow, remember?"

"Of course, you're probably tired as well," Hannibal said. "Gentlemen."

They said a handful of goodbyes, before they went back out into the cold air. Flakes of snow were falling from the sky, melting before they touched the ground.

"I had a really good time," Will promised, as Hannibal started up the Bentley. "I'm happy you shared this with me."

Hannibal paused, tension easing from his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Will's knuckles.

"I am happy that you were willing to listen," Hannibal murmured. "Beloved."

Will leaned across the center console, drawing Hannibal into a soft kiss. Hannibal deepened it, hand dropping to rub up Will's thigh. They parted for breath, staring deep into each other's eyes.

Hannibal started the car, and drove home faster than what was probably legal.

 

-

 

The phone rang at eight in the morning. Will came into wakefulness blearily, draped over Hannibal with his head pillowed on his pectoral and their legs tangled together. Hannibal woke up like a cat – quickly, already alert – and answered with a voice rough with sleep, "Doctor Lecter speaking."

He was silent for a while, brows climbing up his face. "His _vocal chords...?_ I'll be there in an hour."

Hannibal ended the call, and rubbed his hand over his face. Will sat up.

"I wished for a more passionate morning, but the psychopaths of Baltimore apparently do not sleep," Hannibal sighed. "Someone was killed at the opera. Their vocal chords were turned into an instrument."

Will gasped. "How...?"

_The best catgut strings in Baltimore._

Will shook away the thought. It was just an alpha with an improper interest in a happily mated omega, he shouldn't imagine serial killers around every corner.

"I'm certain the forensics team will inform me," Hannibal said. He captured Will's lips in a passionate kiss. "I apologize, I fear I do not have time to make you the breakfast you deserve."

"It's alright," Will said, and then a little slyer, "You can make it up to me later."

Hannibal groaned. "Keep speaking like that, and we shall never leave this bed."

Slowly, peppering Will with kisses, Hannibal reluctantly got up. Will laid back down, head on Hannibal's pillow, and watched him move about, putting on the layers of armor he presented to the world.

There were scars on Hannibal's toned body, faded white with time, and Will wondered if he was the only person to have seen Hannibal like this – stripped bare, raw. No hint of the cultured, mild-manner psychiatrist in his dead-straight shoulders.

In the space between dreams and reality, Will slowly drifted. Hannibal seemed to shift as he fiddled with cuffs – darkened with shadow, antlers twisting up to the ceiling. _The stag with raven's feathers,_ he thought. The creature who cradled him in the snow. Will smiled, vision hazy and silted.

Hannibal turned, and the illusion dissipated, shadows falling away. He smiled, kissed Will's forehead.

"Do not laze about all day," Hannibal murmured. "And do eat something, beloved."

Will made a sleepy noise of contentment, and Hannibal left for the crime scene with a smile.

 

-

 

A light dusting of snow had coated the ground overnight; not enough to cause any problems, but it did make the garden strange and eerie. Will stood in the kitchen, humming as he washed the pots and pans from last night's dinner, elbow deep in soapy water. The doorbell rang.

"Just a minute!" Will called out, drying off his hands and bouncing over to answer the door. Hannibal had ordered a package, though Will didn't know if he had gotten faster shipping or not to make it come this early.

He opened the door, and his smile fell from his face when Tobias Budge stood there. Will's eyes drifted down to his collar, stained red with blood.

"You're bleeding..." Will said, voice trailing off.

"I just killed two men," Tobias said confidently. "For you."

Will took a step back. Fear pounded in his heart. "Mister Budge, I can't..."

Tobias took a step forward, and Will bolted.

Will was fast, and knew the house well. This put him at a distinct advantage over Tobias – he dived under the bed when Tobias had lost sight of him. The entire bedroom smelled richly of Hannibal's and his mixed scent, the bed covers hiding the space under it. The doors to the master bedroom and guest rooms were opened and closed at random. Tobias could not figure out where he was hiding.

He barely dared to breathe, as the _click-click_ of dress shoes tapped on the polished hardwood. There was an angry snarl, and Tobias left the room.

The front door slammed shut, a car started and peeled away. Will trembled under the bed for a long moment, before he crawled out and raced down to the garage, his mind chanting, _Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal..._

He drives to the office in no time flat, still barefoot as he raced up the stairs and into the waiting room. In the pristine office, he heard the sounds of a struggle, and burst in.

Hannibal and Tobias were engaged in a rough struggle, a vicious dominance fight, while Franklyn laid dead and glassy-eyed on the floor. Tobias was gaining the upper hand, Will thought hysterically, pinning Hannibal down on the floor.

Without even thinking, Will grabbed the statue of the deer he kept by the door, and brought it down, hard, on top of Tobias's head.

Tobias crumpled to the side. Hannibal was panting, bleeding from the leg. Will tossed the statue aside and helped Hannibal sit up.

"He came to the house," Will hiccupped. "I thought...I thought..."

"I thought you were dead," Hannibal said, relief and anguish painted in broad strokes across his face. "God, I thought you were dead."

They pulled each other into a bone-crushing embrace, Hannibal's hands running up and down Will's back like he could not touch him enough. Will breathed in the comforting smell of him, felt the warmth and power of his body – blissfully alive, heart still pumping for him.

The FBI were in and out of the office in record time, barely questioning the events described by the genteel and respectable Doctor Lecter and his near-hysterical mate.

They returned home, and once again embraced passionately in the foyer.

" _Mylimasis,_ " Hannibal breathed. "Light of my life...There would no longer be a sunny day, if you were taken from me."

Will sobbed, the weight of the day crashing down on him. " _Hannibal..._ "

Hannibal made love to him right there in the foyer, arms tight around his middle to keep him warm and cushioned against the hardwood. Tears spilled down Will's cheeks as he tossed his head back, their bodies shuddering and sighing in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a plot to this rambling thing? Only time will tell.
> 
> Will is slowly becoming more sassy as he gets comfortable around Hannibal. \o/
> 
> Thank you for the overwhelmingly positive responses, everyone! I love coming back to class and seeing all your nice comments and kudos. It really brightens my day. <3<3<3
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feast is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins with a fairly graphic description of some body parts, but it seems like something that would be on the show IMO. Consensual sex, with the usual Hannibal dirty talk.

It was nighttime, and he was alone in bed.

The big blackout curtains Hannibal preferred were open, letting in silvery moonlight. The room was freezing, so unlike the typically warm bedroom. Will stared into the strange shadows of the room, twisting and shifting in disturbing ways.

Silent, he slipped out of bed and draped himself in a white robe, walking out into the hall. The floor was freezing; the air was freezing. His breath became mist when it hit the air. Will walked through the house, suddenly cold and alien.

"Hannibal?" he called, the sound muffled. It was like a dark blanket had been laid over the house. Will peered out the window, and saw that surrounding the house were miles and miles of bare trees, bone white against the pitch black sky.

He came down the stairs and passed through the archway into the dining room. In the center of the table was the skull of a stag, stuffed full of red roses and apple blossoms to the point it overflowed. Above the fireplace, the painting of Leda and the Swan – which had always made Will flush – had been replaced.

There, in stark and vivid brushstrokes, was some crouching giant with long grey hair, ripping apart a pale body clutched between great hands. The giant's bulging white eyes stared straight at Will, shivering in his bathrobe.

He forced himself to turn away, entering into the kitchen.

Like the rest of the house, it was illuminated by moonlight, and at the island stood Hannibal, his broad back to Will. Will gave a relieved sight, taking a step towards him, but Hannibal's arm spread out, and Will saw that there was blood, up to his forearm and staining his white linen shirt.

Will took a good look at the island, and saw it was overflowing with meat – prime cuts to offal, raw and bloody still to the point liquid was dripping down on to the floor. The blood spilled across the tile and pooled at Will's feet.

"Hannibal?" Will murmured, heart fluttering. Hannibal turned to look at Will over his shoulder, and there was red on his face.

"Beloved, are you hungry?" he asked in with susurrus words. "I'm making your favorite."

He turned to face Will fully, a knife in hand, and stepped away from the counter to show the heart sitting primly on a wooden cutting board. It was still beating.

With a scream, Will woke up.

He didn't even hear Hannibal's confused noises of panic, instead bolting out of bed to vomit out the entire contents of his stomach in the bathroom. A warm hand rubbed his back through it, murmuring comforting nonsense.

After he was done, Hannibal helped Will sit up.

"I don't think this is a stomach bug," Hannibal said, stroking Will's sweaty curls.

"I keep having these dreams," Will confessed tearfully.

"You've been through a traumatic event," Hannibal soothed. "Your brain is just trying to process it."

"But I'm not dreaming about _him,_ " Will murmured. "I don't even understand them."

"Coping mechanisms can be strange and usual," Hannibal promised. "But so long as they bring stability and happiness to you, they are not wrong."

He rocked Will back and forth. "You are not alone, beloved. I'm standing right beside you."

Kneeling on the bathroom floor, tile freezing, Will began to cry in great, hiccupping gulps.

 

-

 

Will was losing track of himself.

Dropped stitches and miscounted rows kept the surprise from growing much longer, seemingly stuck at one size. He didn't remember the layout of the grocery store anymore. His sleep was restless, though he wasn't throwing up anymore at least. A pregnancy test told him that these symptoms weren't a blessing.

Hannibal, as calm and resolute as a statue, was his rock through the trying period. He whispered about coping mechanisms and traumatic events as Will came down from a nightmare, but it just felt like Will was fraying at the seams again. Sometimes it felt like too much to even leave the house, instead curling up under the covers and watching the entranceway to the bedroom with wide eyes.

But life went on, and Hannibal had his dinner party.

The house was decorated to Hannibal's exacting standards, imperial in its might, and full of Baltimore's elite and powerful. The food was finer than most restaurants. Hannibal himself was in his finest suit, dark with white strips that formed bold squares, and he mingled amongst his guests, a proprietary hand on his mate's trim waist.

Will kept his smile up, even though the noises of the party were a little overwhelming. He chided himself for not appreciating the effort Hannibal went through for him, and for wanting to just sleep for days and days. Last night had been particularly rough.

"I'm going to get something to eat," he murmured, when Hannibal was engaged in rather boring conversation with an old colleague from the ER. Hannibal smiled and nodded, watching him go.

He poured the red wine like how Hannibal had taught him, taking a few moments to breathe in and out, focusing himself on the here and now.

"You must be the man of the hour."

Will turned his head quickly, looking up at a young alpha casually leaning his hip against the drinks table. He was muscular, suit nicely fitting but definitely not bespoke, and cocksure, confident amongst all the old money and power surrounding him. Will smiled shyly.

"I guess so," he said, not making eye contact.

"I'm Matthew Brown," the alpha said, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm Doctor Chilton's pupil, I suppose."

"William Lecter," Will replied, taking Matthew's hand. Instead of shaking it, Matthew brushed his lips across the knuckles, causing Will to flush red. It wasn't an alien gesture – he had been greeted much the same way by multitudes of alphas tonight – but something about the glint of Matthew's eyes made Will feel stranger than normal.

"It's lovely to meet you," Matthew said, letting go of Will's hand. "Congratulations, on your bonding to Doctor Lecter. He is a man unparalleled."

"Thank you," Will said, focusing on his wine glass. "He is."

"I can only hope that I find someone like you one day," Matthew declared, and then sighed. "Though that won't be for a while, I imagine."

Will's ears burned. If he didn't know better, he'd say Matthew was _flirting with him,_ but no one was so bold to flirt with a mated omega amongst high society.

"I'm sure you will, Mister Brown," Will said. "If you're patient."

Matthew's grin crawled across his face. A warm hand touched the small of Will's back, causing him to jump. Sometimes he wondered if Hannibal was capable of making noise.

"Ah, who is your friend, Will?" Hannibal asked, a tight edge to his words. He was still bothered by Will being around strange alphas.

"Hannibal, this is Matthew Brown," Will introduced. "Mister Brown, this is Doctor Lecter. Mister Brown is Doctor Chilton's pupil."

"Yes," Matthew drawled. "Hopefully I won't be Mister Brown for much longer."

Matthew did not seem the least bit intimidated or deferential to Hannibal, meeting his gaze head on.

"Doctor Chilton did mention his mentoring of a medical student," Hannibal conceded. "I'm glad that you could make it."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Matthew said. "It's been a wonderful evening – you have a beautiful home, and the company has been _enlightening._ "

He glanced down at Will.

"I'm happy to have more young people at my events," Hannibal said loftily. "Too often we get stagnant and complacent with our old ideas, and need a new perspective to break out of them."

"Hard to believe that someone like you has old ideas, Doctor," Matthew said. "Though none of us are perfect."

"And having youth will allow them to be tempered by wisdom," Hannibal added, eyes narrowing. Will nearly snorted his drink – was Hannibal _jealous_ of the young, handsome alpha? The idea seemed absurd.

"Indeed, Doctor," Matthew said. "Doctor Chilton is waiting for me, but it was nice meeting you Doctor and Mister Lecter."

He gave one final grin to Will, before disappearing into the crowd.

"He seemed nice," Will said, causing Hannibal to snort in amusement.

"Reminds me of his teacher," he replied, and then led Will to the front of the room.

To get the attention of the crowd, he tapped the handle of a knife to his wine glass. The high sound echoed through the room, silencing the low drone of conversation.

"I wanted to thank everyone for attending," Hannibal said. "Tonight is a celebration of something I never thought I would do – bond with an omega unmatched."

Hannibal turned to Will. "I knew from the moment I saw you that there would be no other for me. You are my perfect complement, and have brought sweeter joys and pleasures than I have ever imagined. And I am a man of many joys and pleasures."

Will swallowed, voice trembling with nerves but words no less sweet, "I never thought I'd meet someone like you. You are more than my mate – you have been a teacher, a friend, a confidant, a protector. I am so grateful for you."

They kissed, soft and chaste, to uproarious applause. Will knew they were already gossiping about when he'd get pregnant, what they'll name their baby, what the nursery was going to be like.

Will did care, his heart beating of his chest with happiness.

The guests trickled out at around midnight, the air slipping in from the outside to cool the foyer. Tired, Will dragged himself up into the bedroom and stripped out of his suit.

The door swung shut with a heavy bang behind Hannibal.

"Do you think you can sleep tonight, darling?" Hannibal asked. "I can make you some soothing tea."

"I don't think it would help," Will said, as he puttered around the bathroom. He draped himself with a thin, silken robe, and walked out into the bedroom.

Hannibal was sitting in the armchair in front of a roaring fire, a sniffer of brandy in his hand. He was dressed in his suit pants and white shirt, the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was a particular look in his eyes that made Will's robe pool on the floor.

Hannibal's legs sprawled out, and Will straddled him, knees on either side of Hannibal's hips. He ran his hand down from Will's throat to the V of his hips.

"Did you feel bad, when you killed Tobias Budge?" he asked in that velvet whisper. Will whimpered.

"I didn't," Will said. "I felt scared. And then I felt _righteous._ "

"Understandable," Hannibal replied. "You were defending your mate. Acting on the most primal of instincts."

Will bit his lip, and then in the quietest of tones, "Sometimes I dream of what would've happened. If I hadn't killed him."

"Do I die in those dreams, Will?" Hannibal asked. Practically purred.

"No," Will breathed. There was a wetness between his thighs. "You rip him apart."

Hannibal's hand slipped around, to rest on his upper back. Slipped lower. "And how do those dreams make you feel?"

" _Good,_ " Will panted. "They make me feel so _good._ "

Hannibal was silent, eyes boring into Will as he trembled in his lap.

"If you had been born two thousand years earlier," Hannibal growled, "Emperors and gods alike would've descended into savage madness over the right to possess you."

The sniffer of brandy descended to the ground with a deafening shatter. Hannibal lifted Will up and carried him to the bed, throwing him down amongst the plush pillows. He ripped open his shirt and hurriedly undid his pants. Will moaned, legs spreading.

Hannibal placed one knee on the bed and draped Will's legs over his shoulders, sliding in with a single, smooth movement. Will keened, arching his back. His hands scrambled to grip Hannibal's shoulders, dragging him down for a kiss.

"Ganymede, Antonius, Patroclus," Hannibal hissed. "Nothing but pretty idiots, compared to you."

Will bared his neck, groaning and crying. "You are covered in blood, victorious, and take me right before his eyes..."

Hannibal bit into Will's neck, hard enough to draw blood.

"I would fight thousands," Hannibal promised. "If another alpha had claimed you before me, they would've fallen to my hands."

"I don't want any other alpha," Will declared. "I just want _you._ "

Their mouths met again in a bruising, sucking kiss as they found their completion together, Will screaming out and Hannibal growling close behind.

They were silent for several long moments, catching their breath, before Hannibal gave a dark chuckle.

"I ruined my shirt," he lamented. Will blinked as Hannibal manhandled him so he was laying on the bed in the proper way.

"Is there any way to fix it?" Will asked sleepily. Hannibal gave a wicked grin.

"I'll save it for _special_ occasions," Hannibal promised, and Will giggled, accepting the sweet kisses Hannibal rained down on his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting Will sees is _Saturn Devouring His Son_ , by Francisco Goya. I personally think it fits better into Hannibal's dining room than _Leda and the Swan_ but whatever.
> 
> Matty! I love him, despite his previous luck in my stories.
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some non-negotiated erotic asphyxiation towards the end. It's telegraphed pretty well.

"I think you got the largest trees in the whole lot."

The tall noble fir would, of course, fit perfectly with the tall ceilings of the living room, where the Christmas party was going to be held. The Turkish fir, a bit squatter and fluffier, would be in the study and decorated for their own private Christmas morning. Both were being strapped down to the top of the Bentley under Hannibal's sharp, watchful eye.

Will stood beside him, snowflakes resting softly in his curly brown hair. He was bundled up in the softest of wool scarves, hiding half his face, and his hands were warmed by a thermos of coffee. His cheeks were pinked by the cold.

"It's our first Christmas together," Hannibal declared. "I will have perfection."

"You always have perfection," Will laughed, but let Hannibal tug him close with an arm around the waist. Will knew Hannibal hadn't had a proper family to celebrate Christmas with for a long time, and he wanted to make it perfect for Hannibal, too.

Will looked out at the rows of trees, perfectly green and symmetrical, boughs hanging low with snow. His happy little smile faded when he saw something large and black moving between them, crowned with great antlers.

"Excellent."

Will snapped out of his reverie, turning to see the trees have been secured to the top of the car. Hannibal opened up the passenger side door for him. He slid into the car.

Hannibal turned on the radio, Christmas hymns filling the car. Warmth worked its way back into Will's bones. He spared a final glance at the Christmas tree farm, but did not see the antler-crowned thing again.

They drove in peaceful silence for a while, before a phone call interrupted the quiet. Hannibal pulled off to the shoulder to take it.

"Doctor Lecter speaking," he said, turning down the radio. "Ah, yes. Of course, William and I are already out, we'll be there soon."

He ended the call. "Agent Crawford has some files he wants me to review, to see if the cases are possibly connected. I'll grab them, and then we can be off to the store."

"Alright," Will said. "I'll just wait in the car, if it's going to be quick. I have my knitting."

They pulled into the Academy parking lot, covered in a light dusting of snow. Will rolled down the window, so he didn't get too stuffy.

Will pulled out his knitting, the brilliant red fabric once again coming along nicely. He supposed the progress stop was due to his period of restless and absent-mindedness. If he kept this pace, it would be done right in time for Christmas.

Will had tried to get a clear answer out of Hannibal about how big Christmas morning would be, but only got vague answers. He resigned himself to not matching the no doubt absurd amount of gifts he'd receive; Hannibal never did anything by halves. And there were only two of them – no doubt when they had children it would be absolutely insane.

Giggling, he rubbed his hand over his stomach. The rather foul tea the other omegas in the neighborhood recommended would hopefully make the next Christmas even more over the top indeed.

A sharp knock on the window surprised Will out of his familiar movement. A woman with lots of red, curly hair was standing there, smiling widely. Will felt a little out of his element – her gaze was predatory, but not in a way he was used to.

"Hello," Will said politely. "How can I help you?"

"Are you Mister Lecter?" she asked. "I'm Freddie Lounds."

"Pleasure," Will said. "Do you need anything?"

"I was just wondering why your mate entered the Academy," Miss Lounds asked. "That's all."

"I don't think I can tell you," Will said, drawing his knitting closer to himself like a shield. "Sorry."

Miss Lounds clucked her tongue.

"How old are you, Mister Lecter?" she asked.

"Nineteen, Miss."

"That's young," she said. "To be mated."

Will did not like her line of questioning. "Many people marry young."

"I imagine Doctor Lecter was quite a catch," she said. "Isn't he a count?"

"Once," Will replied. "There's not much left to be a count over, anymore."

"And now he's a high successful therapist, and consults with the FBI," she continued. "Why do the FBI want to talk to him so much?"

"Because he's an excellent psychiatrist," Will defended.  "And sometimes fresh perspectives are needed on old problems."

Miss Lounds's smile made Will's skin crawl.

"Ah, Miss Lounds."

Miss Lounds jumped back from the car like she had been stung as Hannibal strode to the car.

"Hello, Doctor Lecter," she said. "I was just introducing myself to your lovely mate..."

"Were you, now?" he replied, low and dangerous. "Will and I must be going."

"Of course," Miss Lounds said, backing away. "Goodbye, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal entered the car, looking distinctly agitated. Will patted his arm.

"I only said complementary things about you," Will promised. Hannibal smiled.

"Miss Lounds writes for the abhorrent _Tattlecrime,_ " Hannibal explained. "The lowest of tabloid rags. She will unfortunately find a way to turn the most lurid praise into the most damning of confessions."

"I won't let her ruin my day," Will declared. "We still have to decorate the trees."

Hannibal laughed, as they began the drive back home.

 

-

 

The house was decorated like something straight out of a fairytale.

Sweet and charming, but elegant enough to not be cloying. Green ivy was wrapped around the bannister with white lights, beautiful glass and porcelain ornaments dangled from the trees, gorgeous bouquets of poinsettias rested on the end tables.

And above the bedroom door, a mistletoe, giving Hannibal an excuse to dip Will into a kiss.

In bed, Will worked on his knitting while Hannibal read on his iPad, enjoying the quiet Sunday night together. The opera was having various performances for the holiday season, and while Will enjoyed them, it was quite nice to spend some time at home together.

"Miss Lounds wrote her article," Hannibal declared. Will placed his surprise down in his lap.

"What does it say?" Will asked, leaning over to look over Hannibal's shoulder. He angled the iPad towards him, and Will could see the picture was of him in the car.

"Esteemed therapist—" his voice took a decidedly annoyed turn at that one "—Doctor Hannibal Lecter was seen entering the Academy. A near constant presence at crime scenes, the most shocking thing about his visit to the FBI was the fact he left his new omega in the car! The young William Lecter has been with the doctor since August, and by young we mean _young._ It seems like the good doctor should be arrested for theft, because he's certainly robbing the cradle!"

"That was a terrible joke," Will murmured. "What point did this serve?"

"Ad revenue," Hannibal muttered darkly, turning off the iPad and putting it away. "Do you think often, of our age gap? It is, to some people, quite expansive."

"I've never really thought about it," Will said. "It's common, isn't it?"

"Becoming less so," Hannibal said. He ran his hand through Will's curls. "Sometimes I think about it. How I will pass before you."

Will caught Hannibal's wrist, bringing it down to rest over his heart. "Don't talk about things like that."

"Do you find the thought of death frightening, Will?" Hannibal asked mildly. "I find it comforting."

"How could you find it comforting?" Will replied. Hannibal shifted, so he was leaning over Will. His large, warm hand fitted over Will's throat, thumb brushing his jaw. Considering.

"Any moment, my life could be over," he said. "It is freeing – it allows me to full appreciate each moment, in all its beauty and horror. Do you think about death, often?"

"I dream about it," Will said. "I see it, in the trees and in the store and sometimes walking amongst the house."

"Your perception is a sword," Hannibal said. "There is no such thing as pretense with you, beloved."

His hand tightened. Will tossed his head back, baring his throat as Hannibal pressed down. Air escaped his lungs with a long hiss, bright eyes staring, unseeing, up at the ceiling.

"All light must cast shadow," Hannibal murmured. "And you are such a bright, bright light."

Darkness danced at the edge of Will's vision. He let his hand fall away from Hannibal's wrist – acceptance. The constant churning of his mind finally, blessedly stopped.

The phone rang, shocking them out of their little game.

Hannibal let go of Will's throat to answer it. Will curled up into a ball, coughing and sputtering as he got his breath back. The world spun and twirled back into focus.

"...Of course. Right away."

Hannibal hung up. Will looked at him.

"It seems," Hannibal said, as calm and resolute as ever. "Someone perfectly replicated the Ripper's second kill."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Christmas.
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuletide comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - this starts with some non-graphic but SUPER QUESTIONABLE dubcon. It's over by the first dash, but please take care of yourself friend.

Will was chopping onions in the kitchen.

The knife slid easily through the pale flesh. The early evening sun shone off the snow, almost dazzling as it came through the kitchen window. Will was alone, the cavernous house silent except for the sound of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board and Will's soft humming.

Then the clicking of hooves.

Will looked up, and in the doorway of the kitchen was the raven-feathered stag, crowned with its spectacular rack of antlers. It came to the island, staring at Will from across it, before turning and walking into the open pantry.

Knife firmly in hand, Will walked into the pantry. It was empty, of course.

Will always kind of hated the pantry. It always had some sort of draft and some odd vibe about it. He felt dumb for being creeped out by a pantry, and shut it firmly behind him when he left it. He tried to return to prepping for dinner, but every creak and groan of the house made him jump.

His hands shook a bit as he slid the onions into a sizzling frying pan, carefully browning them. The smell made his mouth water – he had been having the strangest cravings lately, for fried food and protein. The sauce he was making would go well with the meat Hannibal had picked up from the butcher.

He mixed the onions with aromatic rosemary and sage, pouring in lemon juice, vinegar, and olive oil. He set the bowl in the fridge, letting it sit, and pulled out the steaks.

Red, the color of healthy tissue. Will only had to trim a bit of fat off of the edges before placing them in the pan, the sizzle sharp and piercing. Will's mouth watered with the smell.

Then the clicking.

Will froze, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. The clicking drew closer, and Will didn't know what to do.

"I guess I am on table setting duty tonight."

Hannibal placed his hand on Will's waist and kissed his cheek.

"Oh, sorry," Will said, relaxing. "I didn't hear you come in. I would've gotten your coat..."

"It's alright," Hannibal assured. "You're busy. It smells amazing."

Will smiled, pleased. "It'll be done in just a minute..."

Hannibal set out the plates and poured the wine, while Will focused on plating the steaks as perfectly as Hannibal could – garnished with the sauce, with a side of grilled asparagus.

Will placed the steak in front of Hannibal, and waited for his response before taking a bite himself.

"Excellent," Hannibal declared. "Soon the student will eclipse the teacher."

"I can't imagine being as good of cook as you," Will said, flushed. He took a deep sip of wine.

As they ate and chattered about their days, Will felt himself growing sleepier and sleepier. He did not know why – today wasn't particularly strenuous, the meal not particularly heavy, and he had only half of his wine. Hannibal was watching him, pondering.

"You amaze me," Hannibal murmured. Will blinked, Hannibal's voice sounding like it was underwater. "Such a bright, beautiful creature, so wracked with such terrible visions. What do you see, when you shut your eyes?"

"When I first met you, I dreamed of being adrift on a flat, black ocean," Will confessed. "I see a great stag with raven feathers, in my mind and in the halls."

"An alpha symbol," Hannibal murmured. "Virility. Strength."

"It's you," Will said. "It first came to me when we were in New Orleans."

Hannibal rose to kneel in front of Will, gripped his face. The lights seemed dimmer, the shadows on Hannibal's face deeper.

"You see me everywhere?" Hannibal asked.

"In the corridors and in the halls," Will repeated, vision hazy. "In my dreams and in the daylight."

Hannibal lifted him out of his chair, cradling him close as he carried him through the house. It seemed like he was seeing the brushstrokes of reality. His head lolled against Hannibal's shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Hannibal laid him out on the bed, divesting him of clothes. Will smiled and sighed into his little kisses, littered across his neck and shoulders. His vision blurred and sharpened, and above him Hannibal took on a ghastly visage.

Black antlers melting down into charred, blackened skin. His mouth was wide and gaping, a hungering chasm of void. Will tipped his head back, tears in his eyes and a wordless scream in his throat. The bedroom was dark, and there were terrible shapes in the darkness.

Hannibal pressed him close, charred skin becoming warm and human and then back to the monster again. Will drifted under its attentions, until he finally, blessedly, fell asleep.

 

-

 

Conversation, muted and terse, floated through the house.

Will's head pounded, his mouth fuzzy. The room was blessedly dark when he woke up, and he spent a few moments with his head under a pillow, cursing his existence. He finally unfurled from under the covers and wobbled to his feet, as unstable as a newborn lamb. Will wore his pajamas, the bottoms pooling about his feet. There was Aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table, which he took gratefully. Last night was a haze except for being cradled by Hannibal's strong arms.

He wrapped himself up in a plush robe, following the murmurs to the steps into the foyer. He paused to listen.

"...fit the profile, with a connection to the victim. You understand...?"

"Of course. I do have an alibi, though they are..."

Will moved to the first step, turning Hannibal and Agent Crawford's attentions to him. The robe, Will realized blurrily, was Hannibal's and it engulfed him.

"Will," Hannibal said, lace with concern. "Are you feeling better?—" to Crawford, then "—Will had a migraine after dinner. I stayed with him until we both fell asleep."

"Did you two spend the whole night together?" Agent Crawford asked. Will remembered Hannibal's arms. The shadows on his face.

"Yes," Will said with surety.

"Sorry to disturb your morning, then" Crawford said. "Until later, Doctor Lecter, Mister Lecter."

Agent Crawford left, and Will descended down the stairs. Hannibal hugged him.

"Are you feeling better, love?" Hannibal asked. "You have the most awful migraine after dinner."

"A little woozy," Will replied, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder.

"Nothing a good breakfast can't fix."

Hannibal led him to the kitchen. Will sat at the breakfast bar to watch Hannibal work. "Why was Agent Crawford here?"

Hannibal sighed. "One of my former patients was the apparent victim of a Ripper murder last night. As I do fit the profile, it would be remiss of Agent Crawford if he did not question my whereabouts some."

"That's scary," Will shuddered, and then, "The profile?"

"White alpha male, thirties to forties, unmated, with surgical training or background," Hannibal rattled off. In the pan, the sausage seared, and Will's mouth watered. "Those things all fit me, except for the unmated part. And that only changed recently."

"That can fit any number of people," Will protested. "Surgery is an alpha dominated field, for one."

"But Crawford still must cover all his basis," Hannibal soothed. "No hard feeling on my part."

Will harrumphed, taking a sip of his coffee. It seemed especially bitter this morning, though Hannibal brewed it the exact same way he always brewed it.

The mystery of the coffee vanished from Will's mind when Hannibal placed his breakfast in front of him. Will immediately dug in.

"You've been ravenous lately, beloved," Hannibal laughed. Will slowed down, embarrassed.

"Sorry," Will said. "I don't know why..."

Hannibal kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. Like everything else you do, I find it charming."

Will laughed, ducking his head.

 

-

 

The Ripper and the Copycat had a back and forth that sent Baltimore into a state of panic.

The Copycat stuffed a man full of flowers. The Ripper dismembered someone in a church pew, their tongue as a bookmark in a Bible. The Copycat killed a prostitute like Jack the Ripper killed Catherine Eddowes, her kidney served on a plate in her kitchen like it was the main course of a French restaurant. The Ripper responded by presenting a man boiled alive like Dante described those who were violent in life would be, once they descended down into Hell. The Copycat, moving backwards in time, took a page from Elizabeth Báthory, draining his victim's blood into a bathtub.

The Ripper killed in sounders of three, everyone knew. The city waited with baited breath for the third victim, the final piece of the long and bloody conversation.

Will thought it was an alpha dominance fight, personally. He communicated his thoughts to Hannibal, who simply laughed.

"Possibly," Hannibal said. "No one likes to be copied."

Will had other things on his mind, of course.

There was the grand Christmas Eve feast Hannibal was planning – _seven courses!_ – and all the legwork that meant. There were invitations to send out, decorations to prep, and of course the food, though Hannibal was taking care of that.

The guest list was not as extensive as the last party, but it was still a lot of names to go through. Will paused on one, however.

"Matthew Brown?" he asked Hannibal.

"It's good to have young people at these events," Hannibal said, not breaking from his careful calligraphy. "And perhaps he can learn some proper manners."

"I thought he was perfectly polite," Will said, an edge of teasing in his voice. Hannibal's mouth twitched.

"He needs to be tempered," Hannibal replied, crisply folding the invitation and passing it on to Will to be placed in an envelope. Will giggled a little to himself – another little alpha dominance fight, without the blood.

The invitations went out, and the RSVPs came back in, and then it was suddenly Christmas Eve. The presents for tomorrow were under the tree. The house gleamed with a stately sort of cheer. Dinner smelled wonderful.

Will stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his hands over his stomach. A little smile fluttered up on his face when he did so. He didn't spend too much time fretting in front of the mirror, dawning his warm navy sweater and brown blazer. The guests were arriving soon, and he was meant to greet them.

He glided down the stairs just in time for the first guests, keeping his beaming smile for the seemingly endless stream of people. Hannibal was busy in the kitchen – it was up to Will to direct them to the dining room, though all knew where it was.

Doctor Chilton came towards the end, followed by Matthew Brown.

"It's lovely to see you again," Matthew said, low and husky. "And eat at your table."

"It's nice to see you too, Mister Brown," Will replied. "Doctor Chilton."

He led them into the dining room. Doctor Chilton and Matthew Brown were sitting close to Alana, who was on Hannibal's left. Hannibal rose to pull out Will's chair, on his right. Everyone settled down, and looked eagerly up at the towering form of Hannibal, who preened under the attention, the great peacock that he was.

"Merry Christmas, everyone," Hannibal said. "I just have one thing to say before we dive in – nothing here is vegetarian."

Laughter, and then the waiters brought in the soup course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!
> 
> Next part will probably take a bit longer to write, because it has a complicated structure to it. Thank you for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Agon:** an Ancient Greek term referring to a struggle or contest.

"The Spartans had a particular recipe for what they called 'black broth,' a type of blood soup," Hannibal explained. "Sadly, the recipe has been lost to time, but I have done my best to recreate it."

"Someone once said that this soup was the reason the Spartans didn't fear death," Chilton laughed.

"It was a man from Sybaris," Will said, and flushed at the pleased smile Hannibal gave him. "In Italy, known for its hedonism and indulgence in pleasures."

"Spartans were famous for their stripped down lifestyle," Matthew idly noted. "An odd beginning to what promises to be a decadent night."

"There is beauty in contrast," Hannibal said. "And in the pairing of opposites."

A hot gaze landed on Will, who smiled back sweetly.

"A good artist can make harmony out of contrast," he said. Matthew tilted his head.

"Do you think good food is art?" Matthew asked. "Roasting meat is the same as creating a sculpture or a painting?"

"When it's like this," Alana said. Polite laughter, but Hannibal's hot gaze ripped away from Will to look upon Matthew coldly. Matthew met those dark eyes straight on, unwavering. Will hid his smile into his water – Hannibal was unused to not having everyone gracefully defer to him. It did him good to be unbalanced, to be forced to find equilibrium after knocking Will off his feet with just a look and a touch.

The soup course was cleared away, and a crisp salad replaced it. Palate cleanser, he explained, before the entree. When Will bit into the lettuce, cold water filled his mouth.

"Do you have any Christmas stories, Hannibal?" Alana asked. Hannibal tilted his head.

"The first Christmas I spent with my uncle Robert and aunt Murasaki, in France, my uncle took me out hunting," Hannibal said. His smoky words filled Will's brain, and he let the images fill his head, the walls of the dining room falling away to reveal a snow covered forest. He turned his head, and caught sight of Hannibal, rifle in hand. Younger, less broad across the shoulders but still full of that fierce confidence.

"There was a stag, the largest I have seen before or since, with the most magnificent rack of antlers. My uncle had said that it was too far away to make the shot."

No one told Hannibal what he could and could not do.

"I took the shot, and the bullet pierced through the great animal's eye. It collapsed to the ground, and my uncle made me skin and butcher it myself. Otherwise it would just be wasteful."

"Murder, then," Matthew said. "If you did not honor his sacrifice."

"Murder, then," Hannibal agreed.

"It's just as gluttonous to waste food as it is to overindulge," Will teased. Hannibal looked at him, seeing the little jab for what it was. What was Hannibal, without his kitchen and his cooking? A shell of himself, for certain.

The plates were cleared away by men and women whose white shirts were as crisp as the lettuce had been. They were replaced with the entree, the final part of the three rounds of appetizers – delicate slices of salami and ham, with assorted cheeses and olives. Antipasto, the feast an interesting blend of all sorts of things.

"I was reading earlier, about the fall of Rome," Matthew declared. "The author made an interesting case about how the gluttony and decadence of Rome led to its downfall against the starving barbarians."

"The reasons for the fall of Rome were myriad and complex," Will couldn't help but inject. Matthew's gaze was fire on him.

"They grew too fat to support themselves, rotted in the hot sun," Matthew said. "They burst open and provided ample food for the barbarians, so their children could take over the destroyed empire."

The antipasto was cleared away, and Matthew did not break eye contact. Will was the one to look away, up at the painting of Leda and the Swan. Hannibal himself rose to serve the main course.

Prime rib, succulent and red, so finely cooked it melted in the mouth. The vegetables and potatoes were secondary to it, seasoned to better draw out the flavor of the meat. The praise flowed like champagne, bubbly and sweet.

"I myself was named after another enemy of Rome," Hannibal declared. "The great general of Carthage, the prophesized revenge of Dido for Aeneas's slight. Do you happen to know what it means?"

"The grace of Ba'al," Will whispered. Under his teeth, the meat exploded into a thousand different flavors like an orchestra bursting into song. "They would sacrifice their children to him."

"Indeed," Hannibal said. The conversation drifted, as the meal was enjoyed slowly to relish the flavors. Under the table, Hannibal gave Will's thigh a reassuring squeeze, and they shared a soft, private smile.

The prime rib came to an end, however, like all things. The remnants were whisked away, and replaced with foie gras.

"I wonder what Ba'al gained from the sacrifices," Matthew idly mused. "Did he honor them? Or was it just murder?"

"What you allow into yourself becomes you," Hannibal stated. Will's fork paused on the way to his mouth, memories floating to the surface – the first lesson in the kitchen. Silver knife in a confidant hand. "Perhaps consumption is how Ba'al sought to understand man."

Will swallowed the foie gras. He remembered picking it up with Hannibal, at the fancy European market he got some of his stranger delicacies. He kept his confidant hand on the small of Will's back the whole time as they navigated the narrow aisles.

After the length of the main course, the next two courses were short but splendid. Dessert was a fantastic black forest cake, cherry and chocolate slices precise and fantastic. Will had to hide a moan when he bit into it.

"Perhaps that's why Rome fell, then," Matthew said. "They let their bloodlust be for them, instead of a way for the gods to understand man."

The feast was winding down. Guests were starting to filter out, gifts of fruit – apples and pomegranates – as a parting gesture. Matthew lingered as Chilton gathered his coat, facing Hannibal in the foyer.

"All things made by men will fall in time," Hannibal said as Matthew's parting gift. "And have we not spent a lifetime, building ourselves?"

With a final, lingering glance, Matthew disappeared into the frigid night air. Snow flurries danced into the hall. The house was quiet except for the creaks of a settling foundation.

Will and Hannibal embraced, leaning on each other for support.

"That was wonderful, but absolutely exhausting," Will sighed. Hannibal chuckled.

"Tomorrow is just for us," Hannibal promised. "No guests, no feasts..."

"No intellectual debates about cannibalism?" Will teased. He pushed himself away a bit, so he could rest his forehead against Hannibal's. "That was cute at dinner. You and Matthew looked about one insult away from fighting right then and there. Thank you for dressing up your dominance fight."

Hannibal frowned, catching Will's lips in a kiss.

"I cannot help how ravishing you are, darling," Hannibal purred. "And while I cannot fault young Mister Brown for seeing how beautiful you are, I can fault him for acting on his attraction."

Will laughed, fingers coming up to trace down Hannibal's sharp cheekbone, the shape of his mouth. "Worry not, love. I am with you, are I not?"

"You are," Hannibal whispered. "My beloved."

Hannibal swept Will up bridal style, and Will squealed with delight as he was carried up the stairs, laughter twinkling like the Christmas lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The debate Hannibal and Matthew had was based off the structure of ancient Athenian law court speeches, because I'm a nerd with no life.
> 
> We're winding down, folks!
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas gift, and the nativity feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of fighting and cannibalism, plus some mpreg. The usual.

It snowed on Christmas morning.

Will awoke like a lazy cat, head pillowed on Hannibal's broad shoulders. He sighed, yawned, warm and pleased, and ran his hand through Hannibal's chest hair. He unfurled like a tiger, arms tightening around Will momentarily before his eye opened, half-lidded.

"Darling," he rumbled. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well-fed, well-exercised," Will said. "Like a baby."

Hannibal laughed. His hands ran up and down Will's bare skin, making him shiver and shake.

"Beloved," Hannibal purred. "Breakfast, or presents?"

Will nuzzled under Hannibal's jaw. "Breakfast. To create anticipation."

"There is a certain sweetness in waiting," Hannibal said.

Their sprawling breakfast was had at the island, giggling and bumping into each other like schoolchildren in their robes and pajama pants. After the last piece of sausage was consumed, they took their coffee to the study.

The fluffy tree was simply overflowing with presents. Will had gotten Hannibal a fair number, but not nearly enough to match the amount he was presented with. Fine things he never thought he had – jewelry, clothes, aftershave, cologne, _books._ So many books! Will hadn't realized so many existed.

While fewer in number, Hannibal relished his gifts. He smelt and felt them, like he was burning them into memory.

The surprise was opened with great care, and a wide smile donned on Hannibal's face as he unfolded the cable-knit sweater, the color of oxblood. He put it to his nose, and stared at Will with burning eyes.

"You have given love physical form," he said, rough and throaty. "There is nothing this can't protect me from."

Will flushed.

"It's not your best gift," Will promised. Hannibal looked skeptical.

"I cannot imagine something greater," he confessed. Will rose from the couch, retrieving the final box. It was a tiny thing, fitting in the palm of Hannibal's hand. He opened it slowly.

Inside was a little pacifier, a cheap thing Will had picked up from a drug store. The item itself was unimportant. Hannibal closed his fist around it, face frozen.

"You," he said, hoarse with emotion. "Are a creature unmatched."

Even in heat, male omegas were less fertile than their female counterparts. For them to get pregnant outside of it, without aid, was almost unheard of.

Hannibal slid to his knees before Will's standing form. He clutched at him like he was a supplicant, and undid Will's robe. He pressed his face into Will's stomach, and trembled.

Will curled over Hannibal, hands in his pale hair and a beatific smile on his face.

 

-

 

Hannibal could barely keep his hands off of Will's stomach, cradling both him and the baby close against him like the powerful line of his body could protect them from harm. It made Will laugh, pressing back up against him.

Of course, adjustments were made, to their diets and their schedules. Will experienced only minor morning sickness, and Hannibal claimed he was glowing already, which made Will privately think he had a biased opinion.

Two months along, Will figured conception occurred on the night with the fireplace ablaze and Hannibal with a sniffer of brandy. There was appointments with the OB/GYN, showing the healthy little bundle of cells growing inside of him.

Will felt almost delirious with happiness as he stood in front of the pre-natal vitamins section of the grocery store, looking for the brand both Hannibal and the doctor recommended.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Will startled a bit, seeing Matthew leaning against the sturdy aisle shelves. He had a tub of protein powder tucked under his arm.

"Hello, Mister Brown," Will said. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"I was in the area to talk with Doctor Chilton, had to grab some stuff," Matthew said with a shrug. He looked over to what Will was browsing, and then what was clutched in his hands. His face hardened.

"Is a congratulations in order, then?" he asked. Will nodded shyly.

"Almost three months along," Will said, hand drifting to rest against his stomach. Matthew's jaw clenched.

"Congrats to you," he said. "And Doctor Lecter."

"Thank you," he replied. "Hannibal enjoyed his debate with you, on Christmas Eve."

"Did he now?" Matthew murmured. Will nodded blithely.

"I don't know when our next dinner party will be," Will said. "With the baby and all. You'll be the first to know, though!"

"Thank you," Matthew said. "I'll see you around, then."

"Goodbye!" Will said cheerfully, placing his vitamins in the cart and moving forward with his grocery shopping. He hummed to himself, picking up the ingredients for the nutritious dinner his Hannibal had so carefully planned. Hannibal was planning on taking paternity leave when the baby was born, to help with bonding, and thus was winding his practice down for the time being – referrals, final examinations, last minute consulting with Agent Crawford.

Will kept his hand on his stomach the whole time he was standing in line, smile unable to fade.

 

-

 

Will dozed off after dinner, and Hannibal put him to bed.

He had been so sleepy lately, sometimes napping twice a day, and so it wasn't unusual he woke up without Hannibal there, bundled up in one of his sweaters and tucked under the covers. With a yawn, Will sat up.

There was a fire blazing and an open book on the coffee table, like Hannibal had stepped out for just a moment and would be right back. Will sighed, overheated, and took off his sweater before laying back down. He stretched out, back arching, and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

_Click-click._

Will's eyes snapped open, head jerking to the side as the raven-feathered stag walked out of the room, the great crown of its antlers barely fitting through the archway. He watched it leave before he got out of bed, bare feet silent on the floor. He bundled himself up in his silken robe and followed it out into the hall.

Outside the bedroom, the house was _freezing._ Will shivered as he padded along, silent like an alley cat, peering around every corner and crevice. He wrapped his arms protectively around his belly.

He stopped at the head of the stairs. The front door was open, letting in the blizzard that had descended upon Baltimore when he slept. The wind battered the door, and Will had to fight it to shut it close and locked. Fear bubbled up in his throat, thinking of Hannibal sitting in the bedroom and hearing the doorbell ring, opening it to see some horrible midnight visitor.

The door closed, the house descended into a horrible, still silence. Will crept through the dining room, and into the kitchen.

The pristine room looked ravaged. Scattered across the ground were bits of glass and plate, oil and vinegar forming pools that touched and then violently retreated from each other. There was one of Hannibal's long handled chef's knives, made to order from Japan, embedded in the wall, almost three inches deep.

There was a smear of blood on the tile, forming a trail past the half-opened pantry door. Will danced around the jagged edges to grab one of the knives left undisturbed and go into the pantry.

Inside, he paused – no sign of anyone, yet the shelf at the back wall seemed askew. Hannibal himself had installed those shelves, sturdy as anything. Will reached out to touch it, and it swung open to reveal a set of concrete stairs.

Down the dark stairs he could hear the sounds of fighting, yelling and smashing. Behind him walked the stag, plates and glass ground down under the _click-click_ of its heels. It stood behind Will, breath hot on its neck. Will stepped aside, and the raven-feathered stag descended down the stairs, dissipating into black and shadow.

It guided Will down.

The basement was far removed from the wine cellar Hannibal had once showed him. Instead of a charmingly rustic thing, bringing to mind Italy and France, this was a place of concrete and plastic, lit by large halogen lights. It seemed to stretch on for ages, the sounds of the fight ages and ages away. Hesitantly, Will walked through the plastic curtain between the stairs and the rest of the basement.

Immediately greeting him was a stainless steel table – the type surgeons used – with a stand covered in scalpels and bone saws. The light above it was almost blinding. He looked away from it, to see shelves of medical equipment and industrial cleaner in great, steel drums. The fighting sounds grew in intensity, as a horrible thought circled around and around Will's mind.

He kept walking, the concrete rough on his feet. One hand was on his stomach and the other clutched the knife tightly. He walked pass more surgical equipment, strange cells built into the walls, cleaners and industrial freezers. Will thought of foie gras and Ba'al, the images in the Greek myth books Hannibal had gotten him for Christmas – priests slitting the throats of rams and oxen before stone altars and great statues of gods.

How the gods sought to understand man.

In the final chamber of the basement he found them – Matthew and Hannibal, locked in a vicious fight like two great lions fighting over a territory. Blood dripped from a bite wound on Matthew's bare shoulder, Hannibal bled from the side where a knife had grazed him. They were animalistic in their brutality, not realizing the prize of their competition was standing before them.

"I understand now," Will breathed, and they froze, turning to look at him with wide, shocked eyes. Will's robe had slipped down his shoulders, baring the top of his stomach, a gentle swell still. "I _see_."

Copycat and Ripper slowly disentangled, like Will was a racehorse prone to spooking. There was blood all down Hannibal's front, and Will stepped into his open arms. Hannibal pulled him close, chin resting his head.

"Brilliant boy," Hannibal purred. Will stared at Matthew with apologetic eyes. Matthew looked resigned, chest heaving with exertion.

"The baby..." Will murmured. Hannibal's hand spread across his stomach, wide and warm.

"I hope it's healthy as can be," Matthew cursed. "And _exactly_ like its sire."

The knife was heavy and firm in Will's hand.

 

-

 

Hannibal had smeared blood on his robe. Will wondered if they had any club soda he could possibly try to clean it with. He'll have to bleach the floors.

In the kitchen came the sound of meat searing in a sizzling hot pan. Will sat at the end of the table, back to the kitchen, staring resolutely forward. His hands dangled uselessly at his side.

Hannibal put his plate in front of him – heart, quickly fried. Fresh as it possibly could be. His mate was still drenched in blood, wounds barely taken care of, and he sat beside him, not hiding his eagerness to watch Will eat.

"I wasn't an alibi," Will whispered. "You knew Alana was going to recommend your expertise to the FBI. Your perfectionism and egoism made sure you wouldn't give a profile that didn't match the killer perfectly. Didn't match _you_ perfectly."

He turned to look at his mate, his husband, the father of his child. "You needed something more than an alibi. You needed a _character witness._ Some impoverished omega no one else wanted wasn't going to question the alpha would swept them out of poverty and scorn. No one would think the newly mated Doctor Lecter, with his _pretty_ and _pregnant_ husband at home, could be the sadistic psychopath they were chasing."

Hannibal cradled Will's face in his hands, a strange smile twisting on his face.

"I thought I had predicted every twisted path mating would bring me down," Hannibal murmured. "Prepared myself for inane conversations about household furniture and banal neighborhood gossip. Nursery rooms and babies. But I did not predict _you,_ beloved."

He rubbed his thumb on Will's bottom lip. "I have been granted the rarest of gifts – a chance to worship and be worshipped by a living _god._ I do not fault Matthew in his idolatry of you. I do not doubt I would do worse in my desire to possess you."

Will traced down the line of Hannibal's face – nose, mouth, chin – and let his hand sprawl out over Hannibal's chest, slip through the blood and hair.

"If it's a boy, we name him after the man who gave him his strength and courage," Will said. "In the face of insurmountable odds."

He gripped the heart, forgoing the utensils Hannibal had so delicately set for him, and took a bite. The juices flowed down his chin, staining his robe even further.

"I could not imagine granting anyone else the honor," Hannibal breathed, and then _laughed._

 

*

 

In the most elite prep school in Baltimore – educating from kindergarten to grade twelve – the Lecters waited patiently outside the principal's office.

Hannibal looked like a king sitting in the tiny plastic chair, dressed to the nines in his silvery blue suit. Will felt vaguely ill. In between them, nine year old Matthew was kicking his heels and letting his floppy brown curls fall into his dark, unreadable eyes. One was ringed with a deep purple bruise.

The door opened, and the principal – a balding, aging man, an alpha far past his prime – peeked his head out.

"Please, come in..." he murmured. Hannibal stood, back ramrod straight so the height and breadth of his frame could be seen. He held the door open for his mate and son, and the principal shrank back from him.

It was quite obvious the other family – picture perfect, with the alpha husband and omega wife with their alpha son – were not prepared for Hannibal, who elected to give the two remaining chairs to Will and Matthew, standing with absolute stillness behind them. They shrank back from his powerful presence.

"Don't kick your feet," Will chided Matthew, who then decided to imitate his sire's stillness. It was eerie how well he managed.

"As you know, we are here about the incident two days ago..." the principal began, but the husband cut him off.

"You're calling that little _bastard_ biting my boy until he bled an _incident?!_ " he yelled. The principal flinched, and so did the little boy. Will's mouth curved down further. The husband rounded on Hannibal. "I hope you have a good lawyer, because I'm going—"

"I'm certain Silverman and Brown can handle anything you may throw my way," Hannibal responded calmly. The husband's mouth shut tightly at the mention of the best legal firm in Baltimore. "I wonder if yours could handle mine, considering that there has been a series of _incidents_ involving my son and yours. Generally while my son is alone and yours is surrounded by all his friends."

He took a menacing step forward, and Will caught his sleeve.

"Hannibal," Will murmured, and Hannibal shifted back into his parade rest. Matthew bit his lip.

"I'm sorry," Matthew said, staring at the ground. "But he was insulting Dad, and I couldn't...I got so mad..."

Hannibal placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder. Will swallowed, staring into the middle distance while the principal talked about suspensions and mandatory counseling.

"I know an excellent child psychologist," Hannibal assured, and then they left the principal's office, back into the crisp May morning.

The Bentley roared to life, and Hannibal adjusted the mirror so he could look at Matthew, sitting primly in the back.

"While there is a certain honor in defending your family with violence, there are more effective ways of dealing with this sort of thing, Matthew," Hannibal declared. Matthew perked up from where he was staring at his shoes, obviously expecting punishment.

"How?" he asked, in his high and proper voice. His first words had been _Dada,_ was Will's frantic and erratic thought. Hannibal's mouth curved up in a wicked grin.

"I've found talking very much helps in these situations," he said. Matthew tilted his head in curiosity. Will looked out the window, mouth set in a thin line.

Along the side of the road, keeping pace with the car in long and easy strides, walked the raven-feathered stag. Will's eyes slipped closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done!
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments, it really means a lot to me. If you're hungry for more, I am planning a timestap with the adorable Matthew Lecter all grown up...
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> The song Will remembers is a folk song called "Sweet William and Lady Margaret." Title from the song "Railroad Track" by Willy Moon.
> 
> Hannibal's going to be a right prick in this one.
> 
> rainbowdracula.tumblr.com
> 
> [Commission information](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions)


End file.
